Two men walk into a pub….

Yesterday lunch met with keefybabe down the infamous Broadway Hotel (made famous by the Titch and Mouse Mafia slayings of the 1930s). keefybabe so wrapped up in his leather long coat and world of keef tunes he didn’t notice me as I jumped off the bus cheeky smile in hand. Seeing as it was about to rain we quickly dived inside.

Lunch was the order of the day, and I ordered a five bean burrito (which only had 4 beans, the supposed 5th was so closely related to the 3rd it was indistinguishable) and keefybabe had fish and chips (even though I explained carefully that it was against God it not being Friday). keefybabe wanted at first to use his Fish as a boomerang, such was its shape and apparent hardness, until I pointed out that the bar staff no longer put up with this sort of thing after the Australians were in last Tuesday week.

Caught up with the events in each others lives. I explained the hard mathematical equations that are driving me and Rach to move to Oldham soon. keefybabe expressed doubt, fear anger about whether he would ever get confirmation of his job (which he has now so he can find something else to be glum and compose Gothic Operas about). He told me that lindabird is liking the new job, but got into trouble with the instructor by suggesting that certain blocks and kicks could be done in a more modern way. Apparently the Sensi shouted “WE DON’T DO ANY OF THAT BRUCE LEE JEET KUNE DO CRAP HERE AT FUJITSU!”.

Then he accused me of liking the crap pop they were playing on the jukebox, so I switched to Sweeney mode and shouted at the top of my lungs “Shut it SLAG!”. Trembling and fearing a good slapping he then withdrew his slur upon my character and manfully admitted that he is resigned to never hearing the music he likes played in pubs EVER. So touched was I by this sad revelation that I spent the afternoon setting up